


Gotta Go Fast

by Sophisticated_Adult



Category: Top Gear (UK) RPF, Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-25
Updated: 2013-02-25
Packaged: 2017-12-03 15:24:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/699712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sophisticated_Adult/pseuds/Sophisticated_Adult
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hot Rod has an admirer. Springer is not okay with this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gotta Go Fast

**Author's Note:**

> I really have no excuse for this one.

:I knew it!: Springer hissed through the comm link, feeling a grim sense of satisfaction at the startlement that shot through Hot Rod's field. Caught red-handed.

:Oh, uh, hi Springer: his partner replied, having the decency to sound guilty. Springer could only count himself lucky that they were both in their alt-modes and he wouldn't have to deal with the biggest pair of adorable optics he'd ever seen. The damn kid knew how to work those things to his advantage way too well.

:Are you - you're actually getting a wax?: Springer demanded, not quite able to believe what he was seeing. The little traitor! This was not part of the plan!

:Cars get waxed all the time!: Hot Rod replied defensively. :What was I supposed to do, run away? Anyway, he...kind of knows about us already. I didn't tell him!: He cut off Springer's angry tirade (because _what the frag, Hot Rod?_ ) before it began. :He just knew, okay?:

:When were you going to tell me this?: Springer demanded. While he couldn't succumb to Hot Rod being too cute for his own good when they were both in alt-mode, it also meant that he couldn't glare at the little punk. Who was sitting, pretty as you please, right out in the open getting waxed and shined by his new best friend. Springer regarded him warily. The racing driver was human-shaped, but when you tried to scan him the equipment went haywire and all you got out of it was a processor ache. He creeped Springer out to no end. The triple-changer was used to faceless or helm-covered mechs, sure, no problem. But on humans (or human-like creatures, he reminded himself) it was just unsettling. There could be _anything_ under that helmet. Who knew what eldritch nightmare the white racing outfit covered? The one he _never took off?_ Coincidence? Yeah, he didn't think so either.

The humans accepted the strange being even when he never spoke. As far as Springer could tell he either worked or very possibly lived in the studio he and Hot Rod were hiding out in until the threat of following Decepticons passed. Luckily enough it was for a programme on cars, preferably fast ones, so at least he didn't get Hot Rod whining at him for being saddled with a lame alt-form. Unfortunately Hot Rod's definition of 'in disguise' meant the flashiest, fastest thing he could find amongst all the cars waiting to be used for the show, and the younger mech evidently caught the eye (on second thoughts, did he even want to know if there _were_ eyes?) of the white-clad driver. They'd gone out onto the track a few times, but it meant Hot Rod got to burn his excess energy off instead of annoying Springer with it, so that was okay. Springer's more mundane choice of a Jeep had so far been ignored. Well, good. He wasn't built for the racetrack and Hot Rod would just make fun of whatever time he got anyway.

:I was gonna tell you: Hot Rod replied, actually shifting his wheels a little to give the racing driver better access to various nooks and crannies. :I just - yeah, right there - didn't really know how to say it. He knew right away. It wasn't like the humans didn't notice two new cars pop up. He smoothed it over with them, they think we're his cars. I was kinda freaked out myself, but, uh, he's not from around here:

:You don't say: Springer said, trying to project the full force of his sarcasm through the comm link. :How the frag did he know us?: The subject of their conversation continued cleaning and waxing Hot Rod and completely ignoring Springer's existence.

:The humans just call him the Stig, he won't tell me his proper name. You know...well, you know how Sharkticons have to keep moving or else their systems'll overheat?:

:No. Do they?: Huh. Was that why they were so bad-tempered?

:They do. Try actually listening to Kup's stories sometimes: Hot Rod replied, sounding amused. :You might learn something. Anyway, this guy likes to go fast. It's just...ingrained. Apparently his kind used to have strong ties with ours, but what with the war and everything...: The younger mech gave the best impression of a shrug you could do when you were a car. :And he's stuck here like us, Springer. C'mon, there's no harm in it:

:I just...: Springer deflated. If it wasn't the optics, it was the sheer earnestness and sincerity Hot Rod could put into his voice. :Look, you gotta tell me these things, Roddy, or I'm gonna freak out. We're not exactly in a great situation here, y'know, I need to look out for you or Magnus'll have my aft after Kup's finished with me:

:Sorry: It certainly sounded genuine, but Hot Rod could be the master of the phony apology if he was convinced he was in the right enough. :Say, why don't you guys introduce yourselves? Since we're stuck here together and all:

Springer watched the Stig carefully, not sure how much he could trust the alien. Sure, he'd hit it off with Hot Rod, but it was hard not to. The Stig paused in his movements for the first time and the white and black helmet suddenly raised to look straight at him. Words that were neither his own nor Hot Rod's arrived in Springer's head, a deep voice speaking a strange, flowing language that would have made his knees go weak if he'd been in robot mode.

"What...what the frag was that?" He was so caught off guard he forgot to use the comm link. Hot Rod just laughed, the bastard. He must have expected this.

"It's Ancient," his amused friend explained. "I mean, that's just how he says hello. Can you blame me?"

"Warn me next time," Springer said faintly, staring at the expressionless helmet. "And since when do you know Ancient?"

"Oh, I don't. But he leant me a copy of his file and I've been learning it. I can give you one if you'd like."

"...Okay then?" Pits, he might as well learn Ancient while he was here. Not like he had anything better to do.

\---

Springer deleted the file two days later. Just to make sure, he cleared the Deleted Items folder as well. While he couldn't avoid listening to his best friend being chatted up by a besotted alien racing driver, he could at least not understand it.

" _Beautiful one of the stars_ my aft," he muttered. He didn't even care if it brought the Decepticons down on their heads at this point, he was sending the damn distress signal.


End file.
